December
by Duplicitous
Summary: L had died and now everything was different. Kira had killed L.   Focuses on what Mello did while Near dawdled.


**Title:** December

**Author:** Duplicitous

**Summary:** L had died and now everything was different. Kira had killed L.

Focuses on what Mello did while Near dawdled

**Rating:** PG-13 for language and violence

**Disclaimer:** Mine… or not *hides from scary copyright police*

**Author's Notes:** This is the first chapter of a story we worked on while bored at school. When we get inspiration again we'll work on it some more.

**December**

The sun was shining in a ridiculously sappy and clichéd manner. Outside people where running about buying and buying and buying. Christmas was around the corner, not that it really mattered all that much. He had better things to do than spend money on inane and frivolous baubles, the only people that really mattered where too far away anyway.

L was dead. It wasn't possible, yet it had happened. Oddly enough he couldn't really force himself to feel anything about the fact. He had been angry a few days ago, grabbed his stuff and stormed off, but it had been more in response to Near than anything else. After all, L couldn't die, he couldn't. A rather loud hacking noise caused Mello to look over his shoulder. Next to him an old slobbering lady sat clutching her pathetic purse closer to her body. She was sick, it didn't take a genius to tell, her entire body shook and if it didn't take so much effort, he might have been able to feel pity for her, or help her. He remembered visiting the elderly in nursing homes when he was younger, before _they_ had died. Mello narrowed his eyes. Everyone it seemed was dying. It was a natural extension of life, nothing to really worry about, nothing to feel about, and so he wouldn't.

The bus continued on, for hours. He vaguely remembered switching buses, taking the underground at one point. For hours he allowed his mind to not think about anything, he allowed the apathy to set in. It felt nice, cold and numbing. He wondered if that was why Near never cared about anyone but himself. Not caring was just so much easier. He mechanically took a bite of the chocolate bar. He couldn't even remember where he had gotten, probably from one of the numerous vending machines set there for the sole purpose of separating unwary commuters from their hard earned cash. Around him people were starting to move again, they were probably nearing the end of the line. Mello sighed as he picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

He glanced up at the small station clock. It was nearly midnight, and the bus was running late. It was the last leg of the journey, almost. He had been traveling for more than 24 hours when one included the wait, the seemingly endless downtime. There was nothing to do here. He had already worked through as much of the Fibonacci sequence as he cared to do, and working his way through powers of two, had grown boring. It was the first time math had ever abandoned him, though if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, it was more his fault. L had died and now everything was different. Kira had killed L. Now Near had taken over, though when he would actually start doing anything was anyone's guess.

Near was too apathetic. He was smart, he was scary smart, but he didn't do anything with it. Mello could have maybe forgiven the brat if he had tried to do anything, if he had worked about anything, if he had cared about anything. He would never have liked him, but he could have forgiven him. The problem was he had no drive, he never worked, he only got. He didn't understand what it was to want something with all your being and fail to get it, he didn't know what it was to give your best and still fall short. He probably didn't even know what it was to give his best. Mello clenched his fist around the half melted chocolate bar, not even noticing as the chocolate oozed out of the foil wrapper and onto his hand.

When the bus finally came, it was closer to two than one. The seats were full of sleepy eyed tourists and those trying to get home with their Christmas treasures, bags of materialistic crap littering the aisle and pressed against laps, it was nearly two weeks until Christmas, yet the shopping frenzy would never cease. Mello sighed and grabbed onto one of the metal poles, ignoring the press of people around him, ignoring everything. He tried to regain the calm he had felt before, tried to bring back the ice, but reality kept creeping in. He could hear the incessant tapping of an umbrella against the ground, a mother cooing to her child, the rattling of the windows whenever the bus slowed down and the hushed voices of people talking to each other, directly behind him he could make out the subdued snoring of an elderly man. Gritting his teeth he began to focus on the pole in his hand, the slightly cool feeling of the metal in his palm and the vibrations from the moving bus. He could feel a slightly tacky feeling left over from some long gone passenger or flyer. Not thinking about anything of importance, Mello allowed time to speed by him, willing it to go faster and faster.

Mello fell foreword as the man behind him pushed him out of the way muttering about the disrespectful youth of the day. Mello gritted his teeth but said nothing as he followed the crush out through the rear door, relishing in the fresh air after hours being spent in transit. It was rather salty, though that was to be expected, the entire city was essentially the two acres of land surrounding a harbor. It was already light out, but Mello didn't care. It didn't matter. He had hours left before he'd get there. Where he was going he had forgotten, but he'd know once he got there, or once he ran out of money, whichever came first.

Walking briskly through the morning chill, he made his way to the next station, waiting for yet another train. Looking at passing crowds and then the mitten clad hands of some random child he felt cold again. The ice spread farther, slowly seeping into his fingers, his muscles and bones. Sitting outside, he began to forget what if felt to be warm, and he welcomed the feeling and the numbness it provided. L was gone.


End file.
